letters that staved

PART 5

🌻 You’ve got it, Let’s dive into Part 5—the next chapter in Yam and Franc’s magnetic, unexpected journey. This time, we’ll peel back more layers and explore the gentle chaos that comes with letting someone stay in your life a little longer than planned.

The first morning we woke up together felt unreal—not because something magical happened overnight, but because something didn’t. No explosions. No drama. Just the sound of a city waking up outside my window and Franc, already stirring beside me.

His hair was a mess. One eye half-open. He looked like someone who forgot he wasn’t in a luxury condo—but also didn’t care. Still, even sleep-dazed, he had that inexplicable magnetism. Like he could sell chaos just by blinking.

“You snore,” I said, breaking the silence.

He blinked. “You drool.”

Fair enough.

We sat in my kitchen like it was the most natural thing in the world—me boiling eggs, him playing with a spoon like it was a magic wand. And somehow, that spoon got him talking.

“I have three brothers,” he said, twirling the spoon. “But we haven’t spoken in years.”

The air shifted.

“You okay with that?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Some people grow up and out. We grew sideways.”

I nodded. I didn’t push. My past wasn’t exactly Disney-approved either.

“What about you?” he asked, tossing the spoon and catching it. “Big family?”

“Just me. And an aunt who believes I’m cursed.”

“Are you?”

“Still deciding.”

We laughed. But it felt like our ghosts were dancing near us—just enough to remind us we weren’t all sunshine and mint candies.

After breakfast, Franc wandered around my apartment like he was trying to memorize its corners. He opened my bookshelf, skimmed titles, nodded like he was judging my taste.

“You like weird stuff,” he said.

“So do you,” I replied. “Hence, you’re still here.”

He paused, looked back. That gaze again—half challenge, half confession.

“You say things that stick,” he said.

“Because I mean them.”

There was something forming between us. Not just tension. Not just attraction. It was the beginning of trust. Of choosing each other—even if the universe hadn’t handed us a manual.

Then came the knock.

Hard. Uninvited.

I froze.

Franc’s entire posture changed. He stood up straighter, eyes alert.

I walked to the door slowly. Peeked.

It was my neighbor, Ate Lorna. Nosy. Persistent. Wearing curlers and a robe like she was auditioning for “Desperate Titas of Kołobrzeg.”

“Good morning,” she said, peeking past me. “Do you have a visitor?”

“Nope. Just ghosts,” I replied.

She squinted. “Handsome ghosts?”

I nearly shut the door.

She leaned in. “If your guest gets hungry, I made pancit.”

“Thanks,” I muttered, closing the door before she could ask if he had a job or a criminal record.

Back inside, Franc was laughing.

“You get local auntie approval already?”

“Trust me, that’s not a good sign,” I said.

He plopped down on my couch again. Legs up. Hands behind his head.

“You ever think about leaving?” he asked suddenly.

“Where?”

“Anywhere. Just... leaving everything and starting over.”

I sat beside him. “I’ve thought about it. But I don’t want a reset. I want a remix.”

He turned to me. “That’s the most Yam answer I’ve ever heard.”

“Good. I’m consistent.”

We looked at each other. Too long. Long enough to make me shift awkwardly.

Then Franc reached out—slowly, like the world might object—but it didn’t.

His hand landed on mine.

Warm. Grounding.

“I want to stay,” he whispered. “Longer than just for the electric fan.”

I nodded.

“You can,” I said. “But staying means more than sleeping over.”

“I know.”

We sat like that. Between what was and what could be.

And for once, neither of us ran.

✨ Want to explore Part 6 next—maybe they go out together for the first time, meet someone from Franc’s past, or face a situation that tests their fragile bond? Or would you like a turning point with big emotion, like a conflict or reveal? You tell me where we’re heading next, and I’ll take the wheel 🚲